When I was a kid I would wake up next to my mom and see her looking out the window into the black night. She would turn to me with a serious gaze and whisper, Listen to the train whistle. I would listen intently and no sound would come, then slowly, out of the wide darkness the somber sound of a distant train floated to our room. She has always been haunted by the beauty that most of us miss. My whole life I have experienced her as a woman deeply moved by elements of the day to day - the wind, the changing colors of the day, the desert..the cry of midnight trains. She was never a mother who took me shopping, taught me how to love, attended my school performances, cared about my grades, or commented on my looks. Instead, she taught me about adventure, how to leave, how to dance freely, to never speak when musicians played, and to believe in poetry. This morning, my mother called and asked, Did you hear the train last night and the wind? I always think of the places I have yet to go.
Posted on: Sun, 11 May 2014 17:03:44 +0000
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